


In your gravity

by Neonbat



Series: SPN kink Bingo 2018 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aggressive Sam, Angst, Bottom Dean, Brother Feels, Dean has his own problems, Emotionalism, Impala Sex, Kinda, M/M, Sam dealing with Jessica's death, Sam isn't in a good headspace, Season/Series 01, Self punishment Dean, Sex in the Impala, Sex on the Impala, Slight public play, They Get There In The End, Top Sam Winchester, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat/pseuds/Neonbat
Summary: Their father is missing, Jessica is dead, and the Winchesters wheels are spinning on air. Their emotions are cracked and thin, and old comforts resurface. How can anyone condemn them when all they ever had was each other?





	In your gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Totally didn't mean for this to end up so angsty but...whoops? Haha.

The slide of their jeans against the leather of Baby’s backseat momentarily drowned out ‘House of the rising sun’ playing low from the speakers.

 

“Dean.” Sam breathed, skimming his broad hands up Dean’s shirt to clutch at his sides, nails digging into freckled skin.

 

Dean moaned, grinding his hips into the rising swell of his brother’s lap. It had been years since they’d done this, not since Sam had abandoned him to go to college. Deep down, Dean wondered if Sam hadn’t run from him because of this.

 

Fuck, they both knew it was perverse. Sick even. They were brothers but… it had never mattered before.

 

Dean tore his shirt off, tossing it to the front seat. They were parked to the side of an old highway in the backwaters of Alabama, the car stiflingly warm despite Baby’s A/c. Maybe the refrigerant needed a top-off.

 

“Sam, F-fuck. Touch me.” He hated begging, but he wanted it. Needed it. What kind of freak was he if he admitted that no one ever got him off like Sammy did? No one could soothe that ache nestled in his chest made all the worse by John’s disappearance. It felt like another abandonment. Another person saying they didn’t need him.

 

Sam’s hands skirted up Dean’s chest, thumbs flicking against the rosy buds on Dean’s pecs. “God, Dean,” Sam marveled seeing his brother like this. Even as uncomfortable as it was to try and get up to no good in the back seat of the Impala, Dean was a sight to behold.

 

Sam had missed this. He would never admit it, but there had been nights where his dreams conjured images of nights like this. Dean bobbing over him, or being drilled into the mattress of a cheap hotel. It was always done in stolen moments when they were sure John would be gone for days.

 

Sometimes, he was ashamed to say he’d woken from those dreams and fucked his girlfriend to try and chase away the ghostly sensation of his brother on his dick. If Jessica ever knew...Not that it mattered now. She was dead.

 

Sam clenched his eyes to the memory of her body, of the flames, and focussed on the warmth of Dean’s flesh. Real and willing.

 

He reached, hooking Dean by the back of the neck and forcing him down until Sam could crash their lips together. Dean squeaked a small sound of surprise. They rarely kissed when they did this, it edged too close to ‘lovers’ for either of them to dwell on, but Sam needed this, and he had a feeling Dean did too.

 

Dean moaned sweetly into his mouth as their tongue tangled, the taste of cheap beer and gas station chips on their lips.

 

Dean’s hands worked frantically to undo the buttons of Sam’s flannel, fumbling as Sam nibbled and bit at his lower lip. Hard shivers of arousal coursed to his groin until it felt as if the hard denim of his weathered jeans would cut off all the blood rushing to his nethers.

 

Sam had grown up so much since he’d walked out the door. He’d left Dean a boy, but the person underneath him now was every inch a man. Dean mapped the hard planes of Sam’s chest and abdomen with his hands, marveling in the dips and curves. There must have been a gym on campus because Sam was never this cut before.

 

College had done wonders on his baby brother. Dean wasn’t stupid; he knew Sam would have thrived. Sam had everything he’d ever wanted there, all the rabbit food he could eat, libraries without books on cryptids, and he’d had a girlfriend.

 

Until Dean had gone and fucked that up too.

 

Dean fell into the kiss, working his ass against Sam’s bulge as if it might erase the guilt threatening to burst him at the seams. He’d dragged Sammy back into this when he was happy. He’d been so afraid of being alone he’d usurped Sam’s life without a moment’s thought to the repercussions. He wanted Sam back, God he had, but the price had been so goddamn high.

 

His eyes shut when he felt tears threaten. Neither one of them could look at each other right now when the weight of the decisions hung over them in a pendulous sway, one step closer to tearing them asunder with every passing day.

 

Dean tore his mouth away, panting hard, ragged breaths. He scooted a little down Sam’s legs, going for his belt. He didn’t wait even to work the jeans down properly before he dove a hand under the waistband of Sam’s boxers to cup the blistering heat of his brother’s erection with a quivered moan.

 

“Miss that, Dean?” Sam smirked, reaching to snag Dean’s chin.

 

Sam was hurting. He always got rough when his soul was screaming. Whenever John had ordered them to a new place, and Dean took the man’s side over Sam’s. Whenever John pushed them too hard, too long and Dean took it. Whenever Dean made an excuse for John’s abuse. Sam fucked him until his frustrations poured into his elder brother with all the words left unsaid. Dean knew what he was. He was the soldier John had made him to be; he didn’t need Sam to tell him that. He didn’t know how to be anything else.

 

Dean crammed his body back against the Impala’s seat to bend down over Sam’s lap, tugging the offending material of his jeans and boxers down just enough where he could draw out Sam’s cock.  “J-Jesus, seriously?” A thin laugh punched from him. Of course, Sam’s dick was even bigger now that he’d finished growing. Fucking giant.

 

“What’s a matter Dean, too much for you?” Sam’s eyes sparked in the dark, lust bright but pocked with faint hints of loathing. Sam wanted this but was disgusted with himself for needing it so badly.

 

“You wish.” Dean snorted, diving down to plunge his lips down over Sam’s thick length without preamble. Sam groaned, pushing his hips up into Dean’s mouth, hands snapping to the short crop of Dean’s sun-bleached hair.

 

Sam forced his head down until Dean gagged, and then an inch more. Dean pulled up with a gasp, glaring down as he wiped a trail of drool from his chin with the back of his hand. He sank back down, slower, humming a note of satisfaction as inch by inch, Sam’s dick invaded him, filling every corner. His throat burned with it, at too much of an awkward angle to take Sam flush without choking off his air supply in the process. He tried anyway, cheeks pinking and eyes welling with prickled tears.

 

Abruptly, Sam’s hand tightened in his hair, and he was pulled off with a gasp. Before Dean could even ask what the hell Sam was doing, Sam fixed him with a heated stare.

 

“Get out of the car.”

 

Dean blinked, brows furrowing. Get...The fuck would he do that? He wanted to tear himself out of his jeans and fuck himself on Sam’s cock until he had trouble walking!

 

“Wh--”

 

“Out,” Sam ordered, and Dean was helpless to obey, he wasn’t the only Winchester to perfect folding power into his voice.

 

Dean slid off of Sam’s lap reluctantly, “Change your mind ‘cause there ain’t any motels around here for miles.” He smirked, playing at light-hearted as he felt around for the handle and awkwardly peeled himself out of the Impala. The humidity clung to his skin instantly, even in the middle of the night it was balmy to the point of feeling like you were trying to breath through soup.

 

Sam stepped out after him, making absolutely no move to pull up his jeans. “Shut up, Dean.” He sighed, reaching to grasp Dean by the back of the neck and force him turns towards the car. “I didn’t change my mind, but what I wanted wasn’t going to happen in the backseat.” His hands went for Dean’s belt, even as Dean squirmed with abrupt realization.

 

“J-Jesus Sam, anyone could drive by!” Dean’s cock twitched at the thought, but the genuine threat of being caught out here with their literal pant’s down wasn’t something Dean was keen on living. He figured two brothers fucking in the backwoods of the deep south would end in them being arrested at best, and bleeding at worst.

 

“When’s that ever stopped you?” Sam was on a mission now. It was beyond venting their frustrations. He was making a point. What the fuck that point was Dean didn’t know, but the thick air was growing stifling the closer Sam got to tugging his jeans down.

 

Dean leaned helplessly against the car, sticking out his hips with a soft moan as Sam bared him to the air. “Gl-glove box.” He swallowed, gesturing feebly for his quick-fix-lube. Whenever he’d flown solo it had been easy to pull over anywhere he wished, fist his dick in a slick hand when the mood struck him, and a town wasn’t close by to charm some beauty into bed with him.

 

Sam made a small snort and dove over the driver’s side seat to fish into the glovebox for the small bottle of lube, bypassing the roll of condoms stuffed inside. Logically, he knew that while he hadn’t slept around since Jessica, the same definitely couldn’t be said for his brother, but he was past caring. What did it matter now?

 

After righting himself, Sam took a moment to appreciate Dean bent over the Impala, thready breaths trembling in his chest. Dean looked debauched already; skin flushed and ass out in the air just waiting for him. Needy.

 

A bubble of acid burned in the pit of his stomach. It’s like they’d gone back in time. Like he hadn’t left at all...Like his time at Stanford hadn’t even mattered. He had nothing to show for it. No degree. No girlfriend. It had all amounted to nothing.

 

Dean gasped as Sam’s hand fell on his ass, spreading a cheek as two slicked fingers probed against his waiting hole. Two fingers from Sam’s broad hand was an abrupt stretch, and Dean gasped, leaning heavily on the Impala as he fought the wiggle that nearly made him pull his backside away from Sam’s touch.

 

“S-Sam! Fuck, warn me!” He hissed, glaring over his shoulder, excepting to see mischief in the looming hazels behind him. Sam’s eyes were a storm, brewing fire and ice that stilled the weighted air in Dean’s lungs.

 

Sam had looked at him in anger more times than Dean could count, and he’d even admit he probably earned half of them. Dean was no saint, but he’d never expected Sam to look at him like _this_.

 

The arousal scorching through his veins tempered, and he turned back to the Impala, huffing a small breath as Sam’s fingers probed deep and splayed. It wasn’t like he didn’t know why Sam looked at him like that, but he still hadn’t entirely expected it. If it hadn’t been for him, Sam would still be living the life he’d always wanted...

 

Dean swallowed, pushing himself back on Sam’s hand.”Come on Sam, ‘m not a virgin on prom night. Skip the foreplay and fuck me already.” He challenged, reaching his hands back to hold himself open to Sam’s touch.

 

Fireflies danced in the field in front of them, too beautiful for the punishment that Dean craved. Sweat trailed down his spine, nestling in the dip of his lower back as he breathed. Waiting.

The sound of Sam slicking up his cock brought air back to Dean’s lungs. A clench of anticipation coiled in his chest and he widened his legs, heart pummeling his ribcage. He’d never taken anyone as big as Sam before, and without prep, this was going to be brutal, but neither would call each other’s bluff.

 

A part of Sam wanted to hurt his brother, to bleed some of his pain into Dean, and Dean wanted it. The pain might cleanse him, like every other scar on Dean’s body, the pain would scream over the encroaching mire within.

 

Sam lined himself up, guiding the rosy tip of his length to nudge and press against Dean’s rim, forcing himself in little by little. Every bit of good sense in him told him to take a deep breath and think about what the hell he was doing, fucking his brother on a roadside with a bit of lube and a prayer, but ‘good sense’ wasn’t in the driver’s seat. When his head slid in, nestling himself in the crushing heat of Dean’s insides, the sharp, pained gasp in front of him made a little bit of the acid abate.

 

Pain pierced Dean through, and it was all he could do to keep his hands spreading himself apart. His upper body draped over the Impala’s hood, hot breath fogging up her black paint in stuttering exhales.  

 

“Th-that’s it, more,” Dean growled, pulling himself wide with a small wiggle to nestle another inch of Sam’s sizable length within him before either of them was ready.

 

Sam slapped a hand out against Dean’s side, the pop of flesh meeting flesh lost in the tranquil chirps of crickets and katydids.”Want it that badly?” Sam sneered, pushing himself deeper. Dean was a vice around him, more pain than pleasure. He wanted Dean to finally just shut up and stop acting like-- Like he always did! The silent soldier. The one to take it. The one that would do anything to keep from being so goddamn alone.

 

He slotted flush to Dean’s cheeks with a hissed groaned, upper body bending over Dean’s prone form until his forehead pressed between his brother’s shoulder blades.  Quiet, barely-there sounds licked from Dean’s chest this close, bitten off whimpers swallowed into the void that Dean shoved most of his stronger emotions down into. But Dean wasn’t allowed to do that to him. Dean could do it to anyone else, but not him.

 

Without warning, Sam dragged his hips back and slammed back home. Dean jolted, a choked cuss on his lips. Stars bloomed in Dean’s eyes, blinking out the fireflies and the moonlight fields. He never got the chance to recover. Sam’s arms snaked around his waist, locking him in place as Sam started fucking into him without mercy or reprieve.

 

Despite the red-hot agony still burning trails from his ass, the hard jabs passing against his prostate perked his waning erection back to life. Dean groaned, hands clawing at Baby’s hood for purchase in vain. There was nothing he could do to ground himself from the pounding of Sam’s hips, no way to keep his voice inside.

 

“S-Sam!” Dean yelled,  cheek pressed against warm metal. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, but he was too stubborn to let them fall.

 

Sam’s breaths burned against his back, Sam’s sweat-slicked forehead sliding against the freckled skin. They fucked like animals, a single-minded focus to rut until all else fell away. It wasn’t like the quiet fooling around in motel bathrooms, or the comforting hands on threadbare sheets when they were sure Bobby was out in the scrap yard on the rare occasions John would let them be somewhere _safe_. Those times had felt like home. Like love.

 

“Th-that’s it Sam.” Dean urged, filling the silence where Sam would usually lavish him with quiet words pregnant with emotions his baby brother was so free with in the past. The Sam that growled hard breaths and held him like he was simultaneously trying to squeeze the life out of him and keep Dean forcibly by his side wasn’t the Sam Dean remembered.

 

Sam had changed so goddamn much. It had been years before that night when Dean had just shown up. No phone calls. No email. Jackshit. Dean should have picked up the phone, should have told the egghead he was proud of him. Shouldn’t have let jealousy and fear get in his way, but he couldn’t. He just hadn’t been able to swallow his pride, and the Sam he knew had floated away from him.

 

Light bloomed in the distance. “Sh-shit!” Dean gasped, trying to pull himself up a little on the hood, but Sam didn’t budge. The loud rumble of a truck was fast approaching, “Sam! Fuck- Some-someone is-” The truck was breaching the event horizon. Baby was probably already within the driver’s sight.

 

Sam reached up to snake a hand through Dean’s hair, tugging hard to pull Dean up from the hood. For a blessed moment Dean thought they were going to be allowed to part, then Sam’s arms shifted, locking under his armpits to tug him nearly upright. Sam kept fucking him, Dean’s cock bobbing wildly with each thrust.

 

The headlights of the ancient truck illuminated their sin, and Sam adjusted his hips to nearly lift Dean off his feet with the next thrust. Dean came, hard spurts of shame painting the Impala’s hood as the truck hurdled by, laying on the horn as if that might dissuade Sam from screwing him like their lives depended on it.

 

Dean howled, almost sobbing under the melding of pain and pleasure that made every nerve ending in his body sing. Seconds later Sam followed after, pouring every ounce of his agony and frustrations into Dean’s body until Dean was left dripping and full.

 

Sam let go, and Dean tipped, sprawling against the hood of his car and into his streaked mess. Dean’s body quaked, even as his hole leaked the torrid remains down the back of his thighs. Seconds stretched by, and the sounds of the night resumed, a chorus serenading their fallout.

 

Weight draped over his back, and Dean descended back to the mortal plain. Sam shivered, hands curling back around Dean’s waist, but this time it wasn’t to hold him in place. This time Sam was holding on, anchoring himself to Dean less he collapse.

 

Hot tears melded with the sweat on Dean’s back, and the throbbing radiating from his abused ass faded. Sam keened, unabashedly loud into the night as he broke. He clutched hard enough to bruise, but Dean didn’t mind. It wasn’t until the vice lessened that Dean dared to reach and push back, nudging Sam off of him until he could turn and gather his giant of a baby brother into his arms.

 

“I’m...I’m so goddamn sorry, Sammy,” Dean whispered.

 

Sam clutched, burying his head into the groove of Dean’s shoulder, sharing sweat, tears, and worse between them. “I...I can’t do this Dean. I can’t do this again.” But he had to. He had to hunt down that demon that did this to Jess. He had to become the man that he’d done everything in his power to escape.

 

“I’m here.” Dean swallowed. It was a pathetic comfort. What the hell kind of consolation prize was that? ‘Oh sorry your life is in shambles, but your fuck-up of a brother is still here!’. But it’s all Dean had to offer.

 

“I’m with you, Sam.”

 

And Sam cried until there was nothing left in him. Long after their skin became tacky, and their muscles protested the awkward position, they stayed; wrapped up in each other’s gravity. It was the only thing that could keep them tethered. It was all they had.

**Author's Note:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Write


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